


End of Innocence

by Ekatarinabeisel76



Series: A Bad Joke [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Friendship, M/M, PWP, attempts at family moments, deviations from canon, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekatarinabeisel76/pseuds/Ekatarinabeisel76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a horrendously bad joke, Carter admitted. But after a thousand years of winning, or having Haresh come to his aid, he’d forgotten how to check his attitude. Truthfully, Haresh rarely ever let him do any fighting; it had been fifty years since he’d taken a head. But what was he supposed to do, turn tail and flee an immortal that had barely scraped together two decades of age?<br/>But even as he exited his truck, sword in hand, Carter wondered if he was making the right decision. There was a force emanating from the redhead, a power that rolled off him in waves. Carter looked up, into his eyes. They were filled with anger and hate and fear, painted a beautiful shade of blue. Carter couldn’t think of the name for that particular shade of blue, but he was sure it was a separate color and refused to classify it under the broad umbrella-term of ‘blue’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of Innocence

It was a horrendously bad joke, Carter admitted. But after a thousand years of winning, or having Haresh come to his aid, he’d forgotten how to check his attitude. Truthfully, Haresh rarely ever let him do any fighting; it had been fifty years since he’d taken a head. But what was he supposed to do, turn tail and flee an immortal that had barely scraped together two decades of age?  
But even as he exited his truck, sword in hand, Carter wondered if he was making the right decision. There was a force emanating from the redhead, a power that rolled off him in waves. Carter looked up, into his eyes. They were filled with anger and hate and fear, painted a beautiful shade of blue. Carter couldn’t think of the name for that particular shade of blue, but he was sure it was a separate color and refused to classify it under the broad umbrella-term of ‘blue’.  
“Is it worth losing your head over a bad joke?” he asked. “We don’t have to do this.”  
“Yes we do!” Richie replied angrily, lunging forward swiftly and smoothly.  
Carter found the anger in the redhead’s voice and eyes to be disturbing, to say the least. He had no quarrel with this boy, yet he was determined that they would fight the death. Carter supposed it didn’t really matter, since the boy would die of his own stupidity. He could hardly be faulted for defending himself, even against an opponent so obtusely green that he probably pissed grass.  
But then he felt the first strike of the boy’s sword. He parried it easily enough, told himself it was the speed of the blow that had thrown him off. After the next twenty blows that passed between them, he had to retract his previous thoughts on the boy, if he should even call him that. The redhead was fast, strong, and vicious. In almost a thousand tears of watching immortals fight, Carter had never seen someone put all of their strength in from the very beginning. He would have been impressed, if he hadn’t had to admit at the same time that he was losing to the kid.  
Carter brought his knee up hard into the redhead’s abdomen. His opponent didn’t falter for one minute, didn’t even falter or drop his sword an inch from its target. Carter tried to loop his other arm around the kid’s chest to form a hold, but he threw his weight backwards onto Carter and spun out of it.  
Oh damn him, Carter thought, his attention now suddenly averted from the fight to his groin. It was a fault in even the best immortal, Haresh had taught him. They all got off on the battle to varying degrees, and Carter had forgotten about his predisposition to excitement during a fight. Now he was semi-hard and getting worse by the minute. And of course, just to complicate things for himself, Carter decided at that moment to notice how very perky the kid’s rear was. Bloody brilliant, he thought to himself.  
“What’s this all about?” he demanded of the redhead. He searched desperately in his memory for the name he had been given not ten minutes ago back at that dingy bar. “I hope I would remember offending such a comely beau.”  
“Nothing personal leather boy.” Richie answered. He had never paid too much attention in his English classes before he had dropped out, but he was pretty sure Blondie was hitting on him, and with come-ons of the archaic variety, as if to add injury to insult.  
Carter lunged forward, taking advantage of the close proximately of the telephone pole. Such were the advantages of being in the middle of nowhere – no witnesses and various annoying obstacles to fight around.  
Richie’s eyes widened slightly as he felt the hard wood of the telephone pole pressing against his back. His anger spiked in that instant. He was getting sloppy, allowing himself to get distracted. If he continued on like this, it would be Mac all over again - and Joe wasn’t here to save him this time. He winced as he felt Carter step forward and press his body to his. He felt trapped, and he was, between the unyielding pole and the firm body accompanied by brilliant grey eyes.  
This is so not the time for this, he told his nether regions, Wait until later, when I’m not about to get killed!  
He brought his sword up to strike. It was a desperate move, he would be the first to admit that, but it was better than losing his head. Carter blocked it, and they exchanged a few more blows, until Carter nudged his shoulder into the sensitive space under Richie’s arm. He stopped short of disarming him, but he had effectively pinned Richie’s sword arm by the sensitive pressure point in the shoulder.  
“Well,” Richie demanded, “What the hell are you waiting for? Finish it.”  
Carter flashed him a brilliant smile. Then he leaned in close, pressing against every inch of Richie’s chest with his own. He moved his left leg in between Richie’s thighs, and thrust his hips forward ever so slightly. Then he skimmed his slips over the bottom of the other man’s ear, not giving way even a fraction of an inch as Richie tensed.  
“I think we can think of something far more interesting to do, don’t you?” Carter asked. Richie was taken aback, very taken aback.  
“I did just pick a fight with you, you realize.” He countered. He couldn’t do this, not with a guy. It had been years, and it hadn’t been at all enjoyable the last time. Well, the sex had been good, but all three of his buddies had ended up dead by Martin Hyde’s sword. The experience was not on his ‘repeat’ list. Carter flashed him another shit-eating grin.  
“We’ll call it a draw.” Carter replied. “You’re not gonna stand me up are you?”  
Carter rolled his hips into Richie’s and watched the younger immortal squirm. He kept his lips curved into a smile as he trailed the downwards to the fluttering pulse just beneath the delicate skin of the redhead’s neck. He ran his tongue out for a fraction of a second, and his smile widened even further when he registered the jerk in the other man’s muscles.  
“Your place or mine love?” he asked.  
“Crappy rooming house down on South and Pine okay with you?” It wasn’t like this would go anywhere, so why not? It beat losing his head, and he’d done the same deed for less when he was younger, back when he was on the street.  
“Perfect.” Carter said, “My teacher would never be caught dead there. He won’t follow us there.” He didn’t fail to notice how Richie tensed at the word ‘teacher’.  
He released the other immortal, and turned around. He got back into his truck and scribbled a note for Haresh to find when he eventually tracked him to that ghastly tavern and then to the sand lot they were now leaving. The blonde tossed the folded up yellow paper to the ground, and leaned out his window to call to Richie.  
“After you! And don’t try to lose me – I’m very persistent!” he called to the other immortal, who was about to put on his helmet.  
It was Richie’s turn to grin now. Carter felt his hearth throw in an irregular beat when he saw it. But even from twenty feet away he could see that it didn’t touch those blue eyes. That was going to change, Carter decided.  
  
Richie unlocked the door with surprising speed. He stepped back, holding it open for Carter, who gave a gracious flourish with his hand as he stepped over the threshold. He didn’t waste any time taking in the sloppily-built room with its crooked ceiling, devastated window sealing and creaky floor boards. He took a few stepped into the room and waited for Richie to close the door. As soon as the redhead turned, he shoved him up against the door unceremoniously.  
Carter attacked Richie’s lips with a gentle ferociousness, at the same time he pushed Richie’s jacket off his shoulders. The leather garment fell to the floor in a crumpled heap near enough to Richie’s feet to trip him up.  
“You don’t waste any time do you?” Richie asked in between small chaste kisses to the lips as Carter set about vesting him of his shirt.  
“The faster I get you naked, the longer I can make you scream; simple logic love.” Carter replied as he finally triumphed over the white cotton shirt. He pulled it upward, forcing Richie to raise his arms above his head to allow Carter to rip the shirt off and toss it to the floor somewhere off to the side. Richie smirked.  
“How do you know I’m a screamer?” he asked teasingly as he began unbuttoning Carter’s leather vest.  
The other man leaned in close and dropped his hands to grip the firm flesh of Richie’s rear. He picked him up and locked their lips together as he carried Richie the small distance between the front door and the bed. He bent over at the hips to lower them onto the cheap mattress and the coarse and disheveled sheets. He broke the kiss to allow the younger immortal a small reprieve to take in oxygen while he set about taking his own shirt off.  
“You will be when you’re with me.” He said before swooping in for another kiss.  
Richie sat up and stretched his hands out to the fly of Carter’s leather jeans. He had his thumb and forefinger on the zipper when Carter grabbed his wrists and pushed him back down onto the bed. The blonde busied himself with undoing the younger man’s jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers just enough to let his erection spring free of the confines of his clothing.  
“Let’s get warmed up.” Carter whispered huskily as he wrapped a hand around Richie’s manhood. He slid his hand up and down the length of the shaft in a tight grip, occasionally digging his thumb into the tiny crevice on the head. He smeared the beads of pre-cum that began to appear form the slit around the head, but all the while kept his eyes on Richie’s face.  
He kept his eyes open, but his throat was exposed due to how far backwards he craned his neck as Carter continued jerking him. The redhead panted and groaned, but never moaned or spoke words to him. Carter frowned; that wouldn’t do. He suddenly tightened his grip on the sensitive organ pulsating in his hand.  
“Like that?” he asked in a whisper. Richie let out an exasperated breath and turned his eyes back to the blonde.  
“C’mon.” He said quietly, not quite pleading but certainly not demanding.  
“Ask.” Carter commanded.  
Richie screwed his eyes shut and caught his breath. When he opened them, they were focused on Carter his a hard passion.  
“Finish damn it!” he ordered. Carter smirked. He knew it was fake bravado and force in the voice. It was what anyone would expect from a hotheaded immortal travelling across the country taking heads, and that was why he used it.  
“That’ll do for now.”  
Then he took the hard cock back in his tight grip and began his ministrations again. This time he was faster, and he could feel the organ growing heavier and heavier. Just as Richie neared the brink of orgasm, he wrapped his other hand in the younger man’s hair and pulled his head forward.  
“Look at me.” Carter said. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”  
He allowed himself a very small inward whoop of triumph when a faint pink tinge entered Richie’s cheeks. The redhead focused his eyes on Carter’s though, probably out of stubbornness. Richie had to admit that there was something about those stormy grey eyes though, that made his orgasm so much more powerful than he ever remembered it being.  
Richie lay back on the bed, panting and sweaty as he watched Carter take each of his own digits into his mouth one at a time, cleaning his semen off with his tongue. Carter kept eye contact with him the entire time, and when he was done, he leaned forward and pressed his tongue through Richie’s slightly-parted lips.  
“You taste so sweet,” he said after he pulled back to straddle Richie’s lap. “Like a woman really.”  
Now there was no denying the surge of pink into the younger immortal’s cheeks as he processed that statement. He feigned anger anyway, hoping that would be a good enough excuse to offer for the reaction. He didn’t blush damn it!  
“Fuck you leather boy!” he hissed.  
Carter’s eyebrows flew upwards as his lips spread into a wide smile. He raked his fingernails down Richie’s taught abdomen, and relished the hiss the other man made as he did it. Then he ran the back of his fingers over the smooth and flaccid skin of Richie’s erection.  
“Have no doubt Richie, I plan to. Thoroughly.”  
Then he took Richie’s hands in his own and guided them to rest on the tops of his thighs, still clad in his leather pants. He spread the redhead’s hands out on each thigh, pushing them into the material of his pants. Then he rubbed the other man’s hands up and down his legs, looking into his eyes as he spoke.  
“It’s a bygone fashion,” he said, “but I think it suits.” With this he guided Richie’s hands to rest on the cusp of his thighs, a fraction an inch on either side away from the rather large bulge in his pants.  
“You like?”  
Not sure if Carter was referring to the pants or the bulge, but knowing his answer either way, Richie moved his hands to the fly of the pants. This time he succeeded in undoing the button and fly without being stopped by the blonde. He peeled the pants down just enough to allow the other immortal’s sizable manhood to pop out of the confines of the leather, unhindered by any underwear.  
“My turn now.” Richie said as he propped himself up just enough to let the cock hover even with his face. “And I’ll do you one better.” He added before lashing out with tongue to strike the head.  
Carter groaned. He wasn’t used to this, not since whorehouses were outlawed in this country. But damn, he thought, he’s even better than that English lord’s daughter I had back in 1483.  
Richie sucked at the cock almost hungrily, never pulling back to breathe or re-adjust the length to fit it down his throat more comfortably. He kept eye contact with Carter too, which somehow made the other immortal want to turn him over and pound into him even more than he already had. Richie felt like he had a tiny amount of power as he watched Carter’s eyes flutter open and then close while he panted.  
“You look so innocent with those big blue eyes,” Carter said as he shifted his hips forward. He began to thrust urgently into Richie’s mouth, and the other immortal brought one hand up wrap it around his waist. “And your mouth latched around my cock like a babe to a tit.”  
His breath caught in his throat, and Carter moaned loudly. He continued thrusting into the redhead’s mouth as cum issued from his cock, spilling from him in a torrent and filling Richie’s mouth. He pulled the younger man up, encircling him in his arms and pulling him in for a rough and sloppy kiss.  
“Who’s the screamer again?” Richie asked teasingly.  
Carter delivered a hard and swift swat to his ass before he answered. Richie moaned then and low sound originating from somewhere deep in his chest that hadn’t been touched for years.  
“Oh, I’ve got time yet love. Be patient, I’ll have you screaming as soon as my cock stops twitching. You dirty little thing.”  
“You’re welcome.” Richie answered smugly and they kissed once more.  
Carter pushed him back onto the mattress. Richie laid back, tense with anticipation and arousal as the other immortal practically ripped his jeans off, along with his own leather pants. The blonde tossed both garments somewhere out of the way and then pressed his lips to Richie’s collarbone, then his jaw, and finally his lips.  
Carter aligned himself with Richie, making sure to grasp his thighs in a light grip. He took in a deep breath and looked down at the other immortal.  
“You remember what to scream right?” He asked with a brilliant smirk.  
Then, while Richie laughed, he thrust into him. The smile turned to a pained grimace, and then that expression faded. Richie’s face smoothed, and he opened his eyes to focus them on Carter’s  
“Go ahead.”  
“Just relax love; I’ll make it good for you.” Carter leaned up for a quick kiss, and began to move.  
After a few moments to adjust to the sensation of something so firm and large moving inside him, after so many years and a lifetime of horrible association, Richie found himself thrusting upwards in time with Carter’s thrusts, trying to meet them. The burning sensation had faded, and he realized that he was moaning very quietly.  
“You like that?” Carter asked him. He gave an incoherent response somewhere between a moan and contented sigh.  
Carter threw his head back just a little and laughed. Then he leaned in for another kiss, longer and deeper this time, and quickened his pace. The blonde reached a hand around Richie’s legs and grasped his erection, which had returned with a vengeance.  
Soon Richie was completely lost to all knowledge and sensation outside of the shabby room. His mind kept shrinking until all he could contemplate was the rhythm of Carter’s hips and the pounding of his heart, beating in his ribcage. He wrapped his legs around Carter’s waist and squeezed, until the other immortal grabbed him by the backs of his knees and lifted them onto his shoulders.  
“Yes!” he exclaimed, not sure who he was talking to.  
He felt something hot and sticky flood his insides, but neither immortal stopped. Carter’s thrusts grew deeper, and his pace quickened even more. Richie contracted his internal muscles, and Carter moaned loudly.  
He flashed Richie another breath-taking smile, and manipulated his legs again. Now there was practically nothing between them. Carter displaced his weight between his own knees and the backs of Richie’s thighs. The redheaded immortal could feel the pressure of Carter’s nails digging into the meat of his thigh.  
Richie could feel the next orgasm coming on, his second of the last ten minutes. He felt the coil that had formed in his abdomen compressing, waiting to burst. He threw his head back into the pillow; his eyes were shut tightly.  
“Carter!” he screamed as he was flooded again.  
He felt his own orgasm splatter his chest. The sticky fluid cooled stuck to his chest as he caught his breath. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Carter. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, and he was staring at Richie.  
“You ready for a shower, love?” Carter asked softly, punctuating his words with brief kisses to Richie’s lips.  
“Do I have to move?” he whined.  
“If you lay here naked any longer, I might not be able to resist another round.” Carter teased.  
He leaned forward and latched onto Richie’s nipple. He swirled his tongue around the hardening bud for a moment, and then pulled back. He kissed Richie one more time, and then pulled him up from the bed.  
“C’mon.” he said as he led Richie by the hand to the small bathroom. “We can warm up for round three.” He added.  
“I think we just trashed that bed. It might not be able to take another round.” Richie joked as he bent over to turn the faucet on. Carter took the opportunity to grope his ass.  
“That’s why we’ll be heading for my place once we get out of the shower.” Carter finished.  
Richie gave him a look, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.” Carter pushed him into the shower, forcing him under the spray while he reached for a washcloth.  
“I’m not one for one-night stands. Perhaps I should have told you that, but either way, you’re stuck with me love.”  
Richie hummed, and leaned back into the firm body. Today was off to a good start, he thought. If it could keep this up for the rest of it, he might just stop in at Joes for a beer and a chat. He was in a good mood for once, and he couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d been in a good mood before then. Maybe the months of travel and challenges and death and nightmares were over, he hoped.

Part Two

“Look Joe, I went by the place earlier and Richie wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.” Duncan said as he sat at the bar with a beer in hand. It was early for a drink by his usual standards, but today had been a very unusual day.  
“Listen to me Mac!” The elderly watcher ordered in a voice that reminded Duncan of why he had ever befriended the man, and how he had ever been qualified to lead the watchers. Joe could be a great guy, and he usually was, but there were times he was not to be challenged or ignored; this was one of them. Truthfully, he reminded him of Connor. “  
“Richie’s in a lot more trouble than I thought.” Joe said. “His watcher, Mike Barrett, saw him challenge and fight Carter Wellan on the outskirts of town about an hour ago. He called me, and I called Carter’s watcher Shaneika Matthews to confirm; she saw it too.” Duncan braced himself for heart-wrenching news.  
“So, who won?” he asked.  
“That’s just it,” Joe replied as he whipped down the bar and sent a pitcher of bud and two sweet iced-teas out on s tray for one of the waitresses. “They stopped fighting at a draw and went off together to the rooming house where Richie’s staying.”  
“You think they went off to fight somewhere more private?” Duncan asked.  
“Shaneika and Mike both said that towards the end it looked like it was getting…intimate.” Joe said awkwardly, letting his own confusion show. Duncan choked on his beer.  
“What the hell does that mean, ‘intimate’?” he demanded of his watcher.  
“Hell if I know!” Joe replied. “But that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Carter Wellan is the student of Haresh Clay, who turned up at the lot about two hours after Carter and Richie left. All he knows is that Carter and Richie went into it, and Shaneika’s pretty sure he’s coming after Richie.”  
“Where are they staying, do you know?” Duncan asked. This was his one chance to avenge Graham. He couldn’t let it slip away.  
“The hotel down on 32nd, the one across from the movie theater.” Joe answered.  
Duncan finished his beer and practically jumped out of his barstool. He grabbed for his coat and was half-way across the bar heading for the front door when Joe called out to him.  
“What about Richie?!” he demanded of the immortal.  
“He can take care of himself!” Mac replied as he exited Joe’s, not sparing a backward glance at his old friend.  
Joe squeezed the cleaning rag he was holding in his hand. He focused his eyes on the gleaming wood finish of the bar, and threw the rag to the floor. It made a harsh whipping sound against the wet-mat, and Joe cursed. He couldn’t lose them both, not like this.  
He knew damn good and well what Shaneika had meant by intimate, and it worried him half to death. What if Haresh was using Carter as a lure to pull in Macleod? What if Carter slept with Richie and then took his head while he was sleeping or too tired to fight? Joe poured himself a beer from the tap, and swallowed it in one long slam.  
“Today’s already slipped into the shitter, and it’s not even noon.” He grumbled to himself. He couldn’t even muster up the strength to flash Alexa a smile.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
Carter watched the redhead sleep from his comfortable position beside him, in his own bed. He liked watching the other man sleep, enjoyed seeing his face placid and relaxed. He expected him to be tired, weary from weeks of cross-country trekking on his motorcycle and nights spent in shabby motels.  
He hadn’t expected the fits though. Richie would roll form side to side, and low sounds would issue from his throat. Carter had heard those sounds a million times before after every battle he had ever fought in during his time with Haresh. They were the sounds of a man living in a battle that had already ended. Every once in a while he would catch a comprehensible word.  
“Mac!” Richie pleaded with his opponent.  
Carter felt a pang of jealousy stab at his chest. Before he could let his tendency to assume the worst get the better of him, Richie jerked. Then he sat up, his muscles stiff and his chest heaving, and screamed.  
“Richie! Love, it’s alright! It’s over, it’s not real!” Carter urged him. He placed a hand on either side of the redhead’s face, and waited for him to come back to reality.  
“I’m sorry.” Richie mumbled his apology and an excuse that Carter knew to dismiss.  
“I’ll forgive you if you tell me about it.” he said. His voice was soft but firm. He guided Richie back to the soft and comfortable mattress. Richie sighed.  
“You ever heard of Darius?” Richie asked.  
“Yeah, he could have ruled all of Europe but he received the quickening of a holy man at the gates of Paris and turned his army back. He was a peacemaker.”  
“What happened to him also works the other way around. Mac was my teacher, and he had a good friend named Jim Coltec. He had this mystical mojo or something that let him absorb evil, and one day he just got a little too much. Mac knew he had to be stopped, and he ended up with a dark quickening from the last guy that Coltec fought. He made it home and found me training, waiting up for him. Then he tried to kill me, and he would have if Joe hadn’t put five rounds in his back.”  
Carter tightened his encircling grip on Richie’s shoulders. He felt angry, and sad. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if Haresh tried to go for his head.  
“You can keep going.” He encouraged him. “I can tell it’s not enough.” He felt Richie’s body quiver as he opened his mouth to speak again.  
“I trusted him more than anyone; he and Tessa took me in off the streets, gave me a job, a place to stay, food, clothes. They were my family. I never thought he’d come for me.” Richie deflated. The dam inside of him gave way. Hot tears slid down his cheeks, and Carter brushed them away.  
“Have you seen him since?” he asked, trying to keep a lid on his own emotions.  
“Yes, he tried to talk to me earlier this morning. He said he was still my friend, and I laughed at him, and I told him that next time it wouldn’t be so easy for him to get me.”  
“How old is he?”  
“400 give or take a decade. Why?” Richie peered up at him with glistening blue eyes.  
“I’ll kill him.” Richie surged with motion. He turned to face Carter, trapping him with his weight.  
“Why do you care?” he asked. “It’s not like he’s challenged you, he doesn’t even know you.” Carter put a finger to his lips.  
“I didn’t live for almost a thousand years taking strangers to my bed, let alone immortal strangers. I feel something with you, and that son of a bitch is hurting you. Whether he meant to or not is bloody irrelevant.” Richie felt genuinely touched.  
“I feel something with you too, but this whole relationship-thing is new to me, alright? Especially with another guy, and especially with another immortal, so take it easy on me.” Richie said, half-joking.  
“I suppose that’s not too much to ask, since I’m robbing the proverbial cradle here.” Carter replied, laughing. He sighed before continuing, on a more solemn note. “If you want me to leave him alone, I will, but as soon as he comes after you, his ass is mine.”  
“No, as soon as he comes after me his ass is mine, and we can work from there.”  
“Independent type, are you?” Carter asked, placing a kiss on Richie’s forehead.  
“Can’t let you forget it either.” The redhead replied jokingly.  
“Well, since we’ve both agreed to give this ‘relationship-thing’ as you put it, a try, where am I taking you for dinner tonight?” Richie’s eyes widened.  
“Are you for real? It’d blow Delilah’s mind if we went back there…”  
“If I ever want to give you the experience of death by food-poisoning, that’ll be the first stop.”  
“Alright, if you’re serious about this,” he gestured between them with his left hand. “Then you should meet Joe. He’s the guy that saved my life.”  
“And since I am completely serious about taking you out to dinner, I need to let you get some sleep.” He placed a kiss on Richie’s lips this time. It was long, and he stroked the inside of Richie’s mouth with his tongue.  
Richie hated to admit it, but he felt safe in this bed, with this guy he’d just met not even six hours ago. He knew he’d wake up, and that if he ran off as soon as he did, he’d be missed. That was more than he’d had since he’d lived with Mac and Tessa.  
Maybe his life was finally getting back on track, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
Haresh walked into the hotel room he shared with Carter a few hours later. He was tired, and just a little annoyed. He had been legitimately worried for his pupil when he’d arrived at the sand lot and hadn’t found him. He’d searched all over the city for him, and then found him in the hotel room, laying in bed. He was about to say something in admonishment of Carter, but the he noticed the thick crop of short red hair that was nestled beside the pale golden curls he knew so well.  
Oh, he thought as he put his coat down on the back of the desk chair. That would explain the second buzz.  
He did his best to attain some information on Carter’s ‘friend’ without waking either of them up. Late teens when he died, lived a hard life, well-built, probably rode a motorcycle judging by the jacket and boots lying in the corner of the room.  
“He’s not a spectacle you know.” Carter said to him as he turned back to walk over to the desk. Haresh smiled.  
“Since when do you enter a challenge ad then take the other immortal to bed Carter? Even for you, that’s rash, no matter how cute the boy is.”  
“Isn’t he just?” Carter asked, he slid out of the bed quietly and gracefully, so as not to wake Richie.  
“How old is he anyway?” Haresh asked as he poured them both glasses of scotch.  
“Died when he was 19, he’s 22 now, and his name is Richie.” Carter answered as he accepted one of the glasses. He sipped the spicy liquor and then set the tumbler back down on the table. The burning sensation was mild, and almost relaxing.  
“Haresh, do you know an immortal named Duncan Macleod?” Carter asked as he perched himself on the edge of the bed Richie was still sleeping in. Haresh turned around to face him slowly, searching his memory for the name.  
“Yes, we’ve both met him. You remember when we were traveling through Italy, when I killed Graham Ashe?”  
Carter didn’t think he could ever forget that day. He’d never thought that his teacher was the kind of man to humiliate an opponent, and apparently, neither had Haresh. The older immortal had changed profoundly in his views on his opponents and the game since then, and Carter was thankful for it. Now he didn’t fight unless challenged, and even then he was not eager to cross blades.  
“Yes, I remember.” He said with a nod, eager for Haresh to continue with his train of thought.  
“Duncan Macleod was the younger immortal that was there with Graham, the one who stayed in sanctuary until we left. Why do you ask? He didn’t challenge you did he? I’d heard he was here.” Haresh let his small amount of concern for his pupil shine through. He supposed there wasn’t too much cause for worry, since Carter was sitting in front of him and his head was still attached to his body.  
“No,” Carter answered. “He didn’t challenge me, but he’s Richie’s teacher, or he was.” Haresh raised his eyebrows.  
“Was? I wasn’t aware that one could stop being a pupil of another immortal short of losing their head.”  
“Me either. Were you aware that dark quickenings actually existed?” Haresh barely managed to swallow the sip of scotch he had been taking at the time Carter when said that. When he made to set the glass down on the table, he changed his mind; he’d need more that a sip of scotch to get through this conversation. He poured himself another drink, and then downed it in one smooth gesture.  
“I had only ever heard of them in theory. What details do you have?” he asked Carter.  
“You knew Jim Coltec, right?” Haresh nodded.  
“He saved me from myself in 1653 after I became a little too obsessed with the Game, how could I forget that man? He’s my vote for canonization.”  
“Well, it seems he absorbed a little too much evil. He took one bad head too many the other day when he came into town to visit with Macleod, and ended up with a dark quickening. Macleod tried to save him, not sure how, but it ended up futile and he had to take poor Jim’s head.”  
“And Richie was the first immortal he found afterwards.” Haresh guessed. “How did he escape with his head? Macleod’s improved exponentially, if the rumors I’ve heard are true.”  
“One of their friends who knows about their interesting longevity predicament shot him. By the time he revived, Richie was on his bike and headed south.”  
“I know what you’re thinking Carter, and I’m telling you no to do it.” Haresh said firmly. “You can’t fight his battle for him, and he won’t take kindly to you trying to either. Besides, I have a feeling that Macleod will challenge me, but if the dark quickening still holds, it might be best if we find another town to stay in.”  
“Last time I saw him, he looked pretty normal.” Richie interrupted them from the bed. He was sitting up, stretching his arms out to the side. “And the rumors are true – he’s damn near unbeatable.”  
“It’s just as well that I’ve retired from the Game then.” Haresh said. He offered his hand to Richie, who took it in a form grasp.  
“We haven’t been introduced properly; I am Haresh Clay.” He said it with a bright smile, and a sincere but light voice. Richie was taken aback. He wasn’t used to nice.  
“Richie Ryan, pleased to meet you.” He replied.  
Carter felt a knot of tension he hadn’t know was there loosen inside his stomach; Haresh approved enough to give his name and a gesture of courtesy. Anything else however, Carter knew would have to be earned on Richie’s part. It was a start at least, he told himself as he watched the two immortals engage in polite banter; nobody had lost their head yet.  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
It was around seven o’clock when the three newly-acquainted immortals walked into Joe’s. The place was lively, but not too crowded. It was mostly regulars, people staying in town for business just for the night, and the occasional crew of traveling friends in a mood for a cold beer before bedding down at one of the city’s less auspicious hotels.  
Riche led Haresh and Carter to the bar, enjoying the feeling of Carter walking o closely next to him. He didn’t think he would like a physically and publically close relationship, but as he experienced it, he found something about it to his liking. Maybe it had taken true near-death experience for him to appreciate the closeness of another person. He even liked Haresh, having found that he wasn’t the smug, arrogant, over-dressed person his gait and clothes suggested. Indeed, Haresh had changed out of his light-colored suit and into a blue polo and tan slacks. Richie assumed that was as casual as he would get to see the older immortal, not like Mac, who was almost always dressed casually.  
“Heya Richie!” Joe said as he wiped the bar down for the millionth time that night. He set three coasters down and pulled out three mugs, awaiting introductions.  
“Hey Joe; I want you to meet Carter Wellan and Haresh Clay, figured I may as well stop in for a cold brew while I was at it.”  
“Adam and Macleod have got a head start on you already, you’d better catch up.” Joe joked with the youngest immortal before turning to the two older ones sitting at the bar. “I hope he hasn’t talked you to death, this kid can really run his mouth.” Haresh and Carter laughed, while Richie made an indignant sound. When Haresh stopped laughing he leaned forward a bit.  
“Nothing compared to what this one,” he jerked his thumb at Carter, “put me through. No one ever believes me, but they were worse back then; the only thing to do for fun was talking, and even worse, they were allowed to carry swords.” It was Joe’s turn to laugh now, and it seemed as if even his laughter formed a jaunty blues riff.  
“How long are you in Seacouver?” he asked.  
“Not sure yet. It’s getting harder to wander these days.” Carter said.  
“Glad to see you’re finally catching up after all this time. Say hello to the rest of us.” Richie joked.  
Carter squeezed his thigh under the bar top, and held it there as he took a drink of his beer. Richie held his gaze cautiously, waiting for the implication of the grip on his leg. When Carter was done with his beer some forty-five minutes later, he got his answer.  
“Come on, I want to dance.” The blonde said to Richie. The redhead immortal acquired an expression rather like bambi facing down a semi truck.  
“No, I don’t dance.” He insisted as Carter pulled him up from his seat and dragged him off to the dance floor anyway.  
“Trust me, by the end of the first month, you’ll have learned.” Haresh called to him as he picked up his mug for another swig of beer. He was smiling, shaking his head at the comedic relief provided by his pupil, until he saw the serious look that had possessed Joe’s features.  
“What’s the matter, don’t approve?” he asked almost wearily. In over a thousand years, he thought the bigotry would have ended, especially towards a practice in place since before Alexander conquered the known world. Joe’s response was a short bark of a laugh as he set a handful of shot glasses on the rack to dry.  
“If this sticks, it might be the best thing that’s happened to that kid in his short but miserable twenty two years of life, so hell no, I approve. But I’ll tell you who won’t.”  
“Macleod?” Haresh guessed. Joe nodded.  
“The guy’s my friend and all, but he’s got this God awful need to divide the world up in black and white and to decide who’s wrong and who’s right; guess which side of the line he falls on. Even if he gets passed the love birds over there, he won’t let you get out of town without a challenge – he’s still hung up over Graham Ashe, and I can’t just give him the watcher chronicle, if he’d accept it as proof of anything.” Haresh nodded.  
“You seem to know enough about the situation to know that I will not answer the challenge. I retired from the Game after I took Graham’s head.” The immortal answered. “Now it’s my turn to question you.”  
“Shoot.” Joe said as he took Haresh’s glass and refilled under the tap.  
“Has Macleod truly recovered from the Dark Quickening, or was his visit to the rooming house earlier today a ruse to get Richie to trust him again so that he can lure him into another challenge?” Haresh queried. Joe sighed, took a drink of his own beer, and turned his tired old eyes to the immortal.  
“A friend of ours, the one I mentioned earlier – Adam – shoved him into a holy spring in Paris. Macleod climbed out of it about thirty minutes later good as new. He was pretty shaken up by the whole experience, but to his credit, the first thing he did was try to call Richie. But then there are some things he says that makes it seem like he’s forgotten about it, or just doesn’t think it’s important.”  
“And that doesn’t jive with your knowledge of him?” Haresh asked. Joe shook his head in answer.  
“No way. I think he’s just pretending it never happened, but if that’s what he’s doing, he needs to quit judging other immortals for the things they’ve done. Like I said, he’s my friend and all, but he’ll turn into the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever known if he doesn’t deal with this.” Haresh nodded in understanding.  
Richie had decided enough was enough, and loped across the bar to his seat. He picked up his beer and took a long drink, and glared at Carter.  
“If I wanted a work out,” he began after he had quenched his thirst. “I would have returned to the early day of my relationship with Mac and let him beat me to a pulp on the mats.” Joe whistled.  
“I remember taking bets with Mike, whether you’d show up the next day, or whether you’d throw up in ten minutes or twenty, or how long it would take for someone to call the cops, thinking he was assaulting you.” He laughed, and Carter and Haresh joined him.  
“Hey, he was assaulting me!” Richie replied indignantly.  
“Yeah well, it kept Annie Devlin from killing you!” Joe countered, still laughing. Richie’s face darkened at the very mention of her name.  
“Don’t even mention that psycho bitch. Don’t even think about her.” He said darkly, taking a rather large gulp of his beer.  
“You fought Annie Devlin?” Carter asked.  
“Yeah, first ever challenge.” Joe said. “He disarmed her, but then Macleod showed up and told her to leave it alone, and Richie to let her go.”  
“Tell me you didn’t. She’s psychotic, that one. What did you do to piss her off anyway?” Haresh said, intrigued by the story.  
“I did. Me and Mac were walking down the street one day, we stopped to get hotdogs at the stand outside of the British consulate, and these creeps get out of a black car with uzis in their hands. Mac took out two while I took care of one, but I didn’t see Annie until she aimed her gun at the ambassador. I grabbed her from behind, but she kept pulling the trigger. One of the bullets ricocheted off the car or something, and hit one of the guys she was with. Turns out he was her husband, Tommy, and she was pissed.”  
“So why’d you let her go?” Carter asked. “She’s going to kill you one day, you do realize that?” he added. Richie raised his arms in the arm in a gesture of mixed exasperation and confusion.  
“Mac told me she wouldn’t and I believed him! What more do you want? I trusted him more than anybody in the world.” There was something different to his voice now. It was tinged with pain and darkness, like his eyes.  
Carter wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pressing his full weight against the other immortal. He leaned his head on Richie’s and secretly took in the smell of his hair and skin.  
“C’mon, drink your beer Brat, it’ll cheer you up.”  
“Hop therapy huh?” Richie asked, his mood suddenly shifted back to where it had been just seconds before, burying the hurt and anxiety. But it was still there, still stabbing at his heart, and all three men knew better than to let him fool them into thinking otherwise.  
Carter took him home two beers later, leaving Haresh to drive himself back when he was done. There was a silent understanding between student and teacher that Haresh was waiting for something, and that they weren’t to worry for his safety or wellbeing while he was gone. That didn’t stop Carter though.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
Macleod felt the buzz as he entered the bar, and he hoped dearly it was Methos; he couldn’t handle seeing Richie and anyone else would just be a nuisance. He changed his mind as soon as he stepped into the almost empty bar. There was one dark skinned man sitting at the polished wooden counter, nursing a beer and talking to Joe contentedly about something thoroughly mundane. Duncan thought it was last night’s baseball game. He was too focused on the man to register much else about the conversation though. He’d recognize him anywhere, the dressy style, the charming white smile, the dark eyes elegantly curved into exotic pools of black.  
“Haresh Clay.” He said, not bothering to add anything to the name. The challenge was implied.  
The other immortal turned, and so did the watcher who had until that point been polishing the top of the bar to a high sheen and engaging in conversation with Haresh. His face was placid, but his heart was racing. He didn’t want to fight. It had been centuries since he’d taken a head, and he wasn’t sure he could defeat Macleod. But as the other immortal strode forward briskly and angrily, he resigned himself to the fact that he would not be presented with a choice; that didn’t mean he couldn’t make one for himself though.  
“I have no quarrel with you, Duncan Macleod of the clan Macleod.” He said as he took another sip of his beer.  
“You had no quarrel with Graham Ashe when you killed him.” Duncan retorted. His body was tense with anger and anticipation as he stood rooted to the spot, not a foot away from the man who had murdered his teacher.  
“I will not fight you.” He said. “Whatever hatred caused me to kill Graham in that way all those years ago is gone, and I have not taken a head since then.”  
“Like hell it’s gone.” Duncan said disbelievingly. His anger was mounting rapidly, and his knuckled were turning white from the iron grip in which he held hi katana. Haresh narrowed his gaze.  
“Do you think you are the only immortal Jim Coltec befriended in his time here? Why shouldn’t I persecute you for the heads you took during your dark quickening, or better yet, the one you tried to take, following your own logic? I’ll say it again Duncan Macleod – I will not fight you.” His voice was still calm, like a steady stream cutting through wilderness, but it was strong; he wasn’t to be taken lightly.  
Duncan was taken aback, but no less angry. Indeed, the exchange had done little, if anything, to assuage his temper. He decided to change his tactic.  
“Why are you here?” he demanded, taking a seat at the bar and accepting a beer Joe had so thoughtfully poured during the earlier heated banter.  
“Business, I’m here to pick up a piece of Native American sculpture for my collection, I plan to loan it out to the American History exhibit at the Museum of Natural History, along with some seventeenth century china order from the very first mass-produced catalogue, just in time for the summer rush.”  
“Is that your business now? Loaning out artifacts to museums?” Mac asked. Haresh nodded.  
“I’ve also written a number of books on Art History. The one I’m currently working on focuses on the early Americas, hence the new piece for my collection. I like to study up close and uninhibited by museum curators.”  
“Biggest bureaucrats outside of the government.” Duncan finished for him. Haresh smiled and raised his glass.  
“I’ll drink to that sentiment Duncan Macleod. It’s almost as if they think they were there when it all happened.” Haresh joked.  
“This coming from the man who writes historical reference books in his spare time?” Joe chimed in. “And another man who taught an advanced college history class as a favor?”  
“That’s different.” Mac argued. “We were there.”  
The three men laughed, and for a moment it was possible to forget what the original circumstance of their meeting had been. The more of his glass Duncan drank, the more he calmed down. He eventual got the point where he realized that Haresh wasn’t such a bad guy. After all, here he was having a beer and talking about the weekend’s scheduled heavyweight boxing match over a cold brew and salted peanuts. How could someone so average, be so malevolent?  
Then again, Duncan argued, Haresh Clay wasn’t average at all. This could be a ruse to gain his trust and take his head when he turned his attention away. But weren’t their entire lives ruses to answer questions posed by authorities and employers and unaware mortals? Was there anything genuine in their lives anymore after they died, apart from the Game?  
The Game. The game that was not. The easily offered excuse used to wash blood from an immortal’s hands.  
‘It’s what you were doing when you tried to take Richie’s head.’ A nasty voice in the back of his head sneered at him. ‘It’s what you wanted when you tried to kill Methos on holy ground.’  
‘That was different” he told himself. ‘I didn’t have a choice!’  
‘Did you?’ And then it was gone. Silent. Sleeping. Lurking.  
Joe had gone into the store room to pull out another keg, leaving the two immortals alone. As soon as he was sure the watcher was out of earshot, he turned to Haresh.  
“Why won’t you accept the challenge?” he asked. Haresh turned to look him in the eyes.  
“In the interest of my pupil and yours. I will leave it at that. I’m not sure what it would take for me to enter a challenge after all these centuries, and a large part of me is afraid to find out.” He finished his beer and stood up. He donned his light summer jacket, and began to walk across the bar towards the door.  
“Good night Duncan Macleod of the clan Macleod.” The older immortal called over his shoulder.  
With that he left, leaving the Highlander to contemplate the events of the day. It had surely been a long one, full of hope and heartbreak. He had hoped dearly that Richie had returned to town to set things right between them, and his heart had broken when Richie insisted that he had nothing to set right. But as he stared into the pale golden ale in front of him, Duncan wasn’t so sure that his pupil had been wrong. Maybe it really was all on him this time.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this pairing is practically non-existant, but I think they look hot together. I still ship these two with other guys though, which is horrendously confusing when perusing for fanfiction.  
> This fanfiction if also on fanfiction.net, under the name beisel76.


End file.
